


White Nights

by lalaleska



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Established Otabek Altin/Yuri Plisetsky, M/M, enby!yuri, otabek loves yuri, sappy and sexy, yuri uses they/them pronouns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:07:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27813523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lalaleska/pseuds/lalaleska
Summary: Otabek took the time to be well-read in Yuri-isms. When he showed up with genuine interest in the Russian skater, he found that their reputation had not preceded them at all.Yuri was simultaneously everything and nothing everyone expected.[future fic; non-binary yuri; idiots in love]
Relationships: Otabek Altin & Yuri Plisetsky, Otabek Altin/Yuri Plisetsky
Comments: 1
Kudos: 44





	White Nights

“ _Zazhigalka_.”

Otabek’s eyes are on the horizon when Yuri throws him this request. He reaches into his back pocket, producing his lighter, and throws it to the blonde where they’re lazing on the floor of their balcony. They grunt a reply then light up, shaking their hand as they burn their thumb yet again.

“Will you ever learn to use a lighter without burning your skin off?” Otabek teases.

“Fuck off. I don’t need my fingers to skate.”

“But what will your adoring public think when you have no fingertips? Surely that will put a damper on your image.”

“They can bite me and my stubby, burned fingers.” Otabek huffs loudly, accompanied by a small smile--his form of laughter. Yuri takes a long, lingering drag on their cigarette. When they exhale, it’s as if every stressor on their mind slips out of their body.

Otabek’s eyes meander back to the horizon. He’s seen the White Nights a few times now, but he’s never gotten tired of them. It’s about twenty minutes past midnight, and the last rays of the sun are dancing at the split between heaven and earth. It’s not dark by any means; reds and blues and golds show off throughout the lower half of the sky, and there’s enough light to make it look like dusk for the two hours before the sun starts to rise again.

Yuri starts singing under their breath beneath him. Otabek turns his attention to the blonde. They have their head back against the wall, foot tapping, eyes closed. They’re still in the clothes they wore to the club earlier: oversized black combat boots, a pink frilly dress, skin tight against their abdomen and peaking out in layers over their hips, topped by an oversized leather jacket that they admitted may or may not have been Otabek’s. Their hair is braided into a crown with most of it waterfalling over their shoulders and back. In their own words, Yuri preferred to be a “genderless mess,” but they’d really committed to the ‘punk rock prom’ look that evening.

Otabek doesn’t and never will mind. He likes Yuri in anything they wear.

Yuri reaches the filter of their current cigarette, stubs it out, and quickly reaches for another one. Otabek tsks.

“Yakov will murder me when he finds out this habit I’ve gotten you into.”

“Yakov doesn’t own me.”

“Maybe not, but anything that impedes his 7-time gold medal champion will put a damper on his mood.”

Yuri guffaws. “He’s always in a shit mood, anyway. Nothing new there.” They open their eyes and fix their gaze onto Otabek, winking. Internally, he nearly melts, but he keeps his composure. Otabek had, so far, kept himself from smoking to focus on the slight buzz of alcohol in his system, but Yuri’s chain smoking has piqued his interest enough to light up one of his own.

“That’s my bad influence.” Yuri smirks, eyeing Otabek up and down while he takes a drag. Otabek rolls his eyes. His lips turn up into a small smile. Yuri pops up in one fluid motion, balancing on their feet and one hand while the other holds on to their cigarette for dear life. Otabek intervenes before they fall onto their ass, grabbing their wrist and helping them right themself. Yuri blinks a thank you up through their eyelashes and joins him by the railing. Yuri can’t help but wonder what kind of horrible angle Otabek had seen them through just then. How many rolls appeared under their chin, how their thighs looked, whether they had achieved effortlessness or just bumbling idiocy. They keep their gaze strictly focused in front of them.

Otabek, of course, notices every shift in Yuri that denotes their discomfort. He’s come to recognize every movement they make as a language all their own. Yuri never mentioned their body image issues to anyone but Otabek; it took him constant internalizing to remind himself that he did not need to fix Yuri, but he could remind them at every turn just how stunning they were. He snakes an arm around their waist, holding them close while they smoke in silence.

Down below, partiers continue to waltz up and down the block. They hear the distant cheers of those still celebrating down by the river. There isn’t much warmth left from the day, but there's just enough to be comfortable. Whenever a chilly breeze filtered through, Yuri shivers.

“We can go inside if you’re cold.”

“I’m not done with my cigarette.”

“You basically are.”

“ _You basically are_ ,” Yuri mocks, throwing a smirk Otabek’s way while they snub out their cigarette on the railing.

\---

An hour later finds Yuri sitting in front of their vanity while Otabek lounges in their bed, scrolling mindlessly on his phone. They’re both in their pajamas, but the excitement of the evening lingers. Yuri methodically brushes their hair, making sure each section is free from knots. It’s grown down to the middle of their back. They’re in an oversize sweater and shorts, sitting cross-legged while they inspect seemingly each strand of hair.

Otabek looks up after a bit to silently watch their ministrations. Their eyes flicker between their hair and the mirror. He can see the way they internally fuss over the smallest of details. Focusing on brushing their hair is an easy way to keep themself from obsessing over every detail about themself, though over time this nightly routine, like a prayer, turned into a more socially acceptable way to scrutinize each of their flaws.

Too many people mistook who Yuri was. Yes, they lived up to their nickname as the Russian Punk, but no one had ever asked why Yuri moved through the world the way they did. Their sharp glances around their surroundings were not out of disdain, but to size up everything around them; their harsh vocabulary was their way to keep their walls up. To them, everyone always wanted something. Otabek, however, took the time to be well-read in Yuri-isms. When he came into Yuri's life and showed genuine interest in the Russian skater, he found that their reputation had not preceded them at all.

Yuri is simultaneously everything and nothing everyone expects.

They skate with the grace of a queen and curse like a sailor. They’re quick to temper and treat those they are close to with the utmost patience. They are soft on the outside and hard on the inside; hard on the outside, soft on the inside. They would just as soon kick someone’s ass as they would coo over a parade of kittens. They are driven, stubborn, lazy, passionate--

Everything Otabek fell in love with.

Yuri catches his eyes in the mirror and turns, smirking. “Staring?”

“Only because you’re so beautiful.” Otabek catches the most subtle blush on Yuri’s cheeks.

“Don’t make me gag, Altin.”

“Of course not; I’d only do that with your consent.”

Yuri noticeably stiffens and then relaxes. They place down their hairbrush and take the two steps to the bed, where they make a show of climbing into Otabek’s lap. They straddle him, not so accidentally rubbing their ass against his crotch. Long arms reach up and link lazily around his neck. Otabek’s hands go almost automatically to his lover’s hips. Yuri runs their hands up and down his neck, eyeing him like candy for the taking the whole time. They sit up just a bit, taking advantage of the height they normally don’t have over Otabek. They linger close to his face, forcing both of them to avert their eyes to the other’s lips.

“You should know by now the repercussions of dirty talk around me, Altin.”

“Oh, I very much do.” They’re both whispering. Otabek runs the tips of his fingers up Yuri’s sides, sneaking under their sweater. They shiver again but maintain their composure.

“So, so naughty...a bad influence, and a pervert to boot?” Yuri tsks at him.

“Guilty as charged.” Otabek removes his hands from Yuri’s sides, earning himself a pout. He reaches up to tuck unruly strands behind Yuri’s ear. He swears everything between them right now is fire. His hand moves of its own accord to Yuri’s chin, where he holds their face lightly in his hands.

“Well,” Yuri starts, the look in their eyes signaling to Otabek that it’ll be a long night, “We’ll just have to do something about that.”

“I suppose we will.” Otabek sports a wicked grin--the one that Yuri has always adored. He moves his thumb to pull down on Yuri’s lower lip. The blonde obliges, closing their eyes and meeting his thumb with their tongue. They close their lips around him and suck gently. They let their eyes flutter open, finding Otabek’s with instinctive precision. Otabek removes his hand and moves in to kiss Yuri, one hand cupping their cheek, the other snaking around their torso to pull them closer. Yuri presses themself up against him and curls one hand around the back of Otabek’s head, letting their fingers graze the softness of his undercut. They kiss hungrily but slowly; they know they have time.

Otabek is the first to pull back. Yuri pouts again at the loss, moving to place soft kisses along the corner of his mouth and along his jawline. He pushes Yuri slightly, then cups both of their cheeks.

“I love you,” he says. He’s looking into their eyes and speaks with intention. He wants these three words to ingrain themselves into Yuri so they always understand exactly where his feelings lie. He wants them to mean everything all at once to Yuri: you’re beautiful; you’re amazing at everything you do; you’re nothing less than astounding. Yuri smiles wide--one that’s genuine, one that rarely anyone gets to see--and Otabek melts.

“I love you too, Beka.” They reach forward and kiss him again, and if only for this moment in time, everything feels like this is the way it’s supposed to be. Yuri pulls back and brings their hands forward to rub teasingly up and down Otabek’s chest.

“So, will you fuck the shit out of me now?”

Grinning madly, they consume each other, all the while gentle sunlight dances along the edge of the earth.

**Author's Note:**

> It’s about damn time I write and publish my first Otayuri! I love the dynamic between these two so much; it gives me so much joy. I’m so happy to finally be able to sit down and write something I’m happy with for them. This lil story in particular was inspired in part by the song Ludo and Hoggle by Billy Cobb; I highly recommend listening! I’m hoping to be writing much, much more! As always, any and all comments and kudos are appreciated.


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